


They Told Of

by HouseAu3



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, CFFAF, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fables - Freeform, Families of Choice, Festival, M/M, Serenade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:53:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7057009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseAu3/pseuds/HouseAu3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a tower at the center of the city. No one knew what was in it. No one had seen anyone going in or coming out. Stories were made and told about the pristine white tower. There lived a bird who could heal with its tears, a sorcerer who could command people with his voice, a princess who could enchant a heart with her smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Told Of

“You will be the story on everyone’s lips,” said the old man. “A prayer for the fearful. A dream for the hopeless. A lifeline for the despairing.”

Len wiped away the blood on his cheek. He was no hero. The old man was clearly delusional.

“You will be the protector of one, then the guardian of all.”

Len threw him a bag of coins and left without a glance back.

*

Len lost his hearing when he was ten. There was an explosion of sharp pain before his world fell into darkness. When he came to again, he was in a room so blindingly white he had a hard time keeping his eyes open. He knew something was wrong. No place could be this silent, and he couldn’t hear his own breaths.

Negligence, they said, shaking their heads, as if that was the worst thing that could have happened to a child. Len pointed at the bruise on the side of his torso, the cut on the inside of his elbow, and the burn on the back of his hand, and they looked at him with sympathetic eyes. A child shouldn’t be left unsupervised, they lamented, blaming his scars on the carelessness of a boy, rather than the cruelty of a poor excuse of a man, as if it was unthinkable for anyone to raise their hands to someone so young.

He knew better.

*

The first time Len heard the voice, he was twelve.

In his shock, he knocked over a glass of water and it hit the floor right next to his foot. Lisa burst into his room in an instant, her eyes wide with worry. Len waved a hand at her. He couldn’t explain what was going on.

He couldn’t hear the glass breaking or Lisa’s footsteps, but the soft hum was clear like a whisper in his head. He pointed at his ear. Lisa nodded with her mouth agape.

She could hear it, too.

They went outside, carefully stepping around the broken glass. Everyone in the foster home had gone onto the street with various degree of confusion and shock on their face. No one knew exactly what was going on, but everyone heard the same voice.

It was the voice of a child, too young to tell if it was a boy or a girl. The hum had the shape of a melody, but couldn’t quite be called a song. It was sweet and achingly innocent.

That night, when he slept with Lisa in his arms, he didn’t have a single nightmare, and Lisa didn’t even stirred.

*

The voice grew into a carefree boy. A boy who was so happy and content Len couldn’t help the flare of enviness in his heart. He knew it when the boy started learning the alphabet. The song was sung with the seriousness only a child possess for such a trivial task. Len also knew when the boy’s birthday was. The gleefully sung “happy birthday to me!” made something twisted in his stomach.

Lisa asked if they could have the same birthday as the boy. Len gave her a smile and a kiss on her forehead. The next year, they sat around the cake Len bought with the money he stole on the street, listening to the boy singing the birthday song in their heads.

It was the happiest birthday they’d ever had.

*

The boy went silent for months.

Old nightmares had come back to haunt Len, and Lisa stayed in his bed almost every night. They worried about the boy who had stopped singing, and wondered if he was still alive.

When the boy finally sang again, it wasn’t the relief Len had thought it would be. The voice was filled with such pain and sorrow that shouldn’t be coming from someone that young; it felt like a knife in his chest, twisting, carving.

Len hadn’t cried for many, many years, but that day, he ended up bawling on the floor with Lisa clutching at his arms, mourning for everything they had lost and everything they had never had.

After that, there was only silence.

*

There was a tower at the center of the city. No one knew what was in it. No one had seen anyone going in or coming out. Stories were made and told about the pristine white tower. There lived a bird who could heal with its tears, a sorcerer who could command people with his voice, a princess who could enchant a heart with her smile.

None of them was right, but none of them was wrong. In the tower lived a boy with a voice that could heal, command, and enchant, but the boy had forgotten how to bring joy and comfort to the world with a song. There was only sorrow, and loneliness, and pain.

*

The man crawled to Len and, with his dying breath, begged Len to please save his son from the tower. Len found the faded picture of a boy in the left pocket of the man’s shirt. The boy had a wide, bright smile, his brown eyes warm and brilliant. Len pocketed the picture and looked up at the tower at the distance. It wasn’t until his cellmate pushed at his shoulder that he broke out of his reverie. He had a prison to break out of. They didn’t plan the riot, but it was the best chance they would ever get.

*

Len couldn’t forget about the man’s dying wish.

The tower was always at his peripheral vision, at the back of his mind. Sometimes, when Len was asleep, he dreamed of standing before the tower, and hearing the boy sing.

He had heard the voice laugh, he had heard the voice grieve, he had heard the voice scream. The picture felt heavy in his chest pocket. The decision had been made a long time ago.

He planned.

*

There was a carnival on the last day of the year. Everyone was on the street waiting for a new beginning. Pillars were set up around the tower in what Lisa called a phallus ritual to honor a god that didn’t exist. Len sat on the edge of one of the pillar, staring up at the small crack he’d noticed on the otherwise smooth stonewall.

Ten minutes. Half an hour. An hour. Then, a stone brick was removed from the wall. The boy - no, the young man appeared behind the hole. His brown eyes were bright and warm, but unfocused.

Blind.

Len swore. This was a possibility he didn’t consider. He would have to speak. Putting a hand on his throat, he tried to say in what he hoped was a low voice, “Evening.”

The man startled and the brick was quickly shoved back into place. Len couldn’t risk drawing attention to himself, so he waited. Thankfully he didn’t have to wait for long. Three minutes and the man pulled the brick out again. He looked wary, but curious. A good start.

_ Who are you?  _ Len read the question from the man’s lips.  _ Why are you here? _

“To help,” Len said slowly, carefully. “Run.”

The man said something, but his mouth was covered by his gesticulating hand. Len couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying. Len sighed. “Stop. I’m deaf.”

The man’s hands froze in the air.

“Your father. I’ll explain.”

Len knew this was a risky move. The man might demand to know what Len meant and break down after hearing about his father’s death, but Len couldn’t stay here forever. It wasn’t a good place to talk.

He was relieved when the man’s expression morphed into determination.  _ How? _ The man mouthed.

Len stood on top of the pillar.

“Jump.”

*

People around the tower were counting down. Five, four, three, two, one. The fireworks launched into the sky. The small bomb he planted on the wall exploded in time with the fireworks. The man jumped.

Len caught him.

*

Len put a mask on the man’s face and draped his coat over the man’s shoulders. The crowd around them were slowly dispersing. He knew they didn’t have much time before someone found out what was going on, so he kept his strides wide and his pace brisk, pulling the man by his hand.

An unfamiliar siren was sounded. The man’s hand tensed in his grip. Then the pillar Len had stood on minutes ago burst into flame. He could always count on Mick to make a spectacle. Len pulled the man closer and followed the now panicking crowd away from the center of the city.

*

His name was Barry.

The voice that had fended off the nightmares. The boy they had shared their birthdays with. Lisa was ecstatic when Len brought Barry to their safehouse. Len smiled as Barry awkwardly patted Lisa on the back, his face flushed. It was a good day.

He didn’t want to take the bashful smile from Barry’s face, but he couldn’t lie to him about something like this.

He told him.

This time, when Barry sang, Len didn’t cry, but he held onto a sobbing Barry in his arms like his life depended on it.

*

Barry’s mother died when he was eleven. His father had taken a knife and stabbed her in the chest. But Barry knew that wasn’t his father. He had heard a voice telling his father to kill her, a voice that commanded and controlled. Barry had screamed at the voice to stop, to get out of his father’s head, but he was too late.

His parents were both dead because he was too late.

*

It took two months for Barry to start laughing again. They had been on the run constantly, going from safehouse to safehouse. Lisa seemed to be adapting just fine to being a fugitive. Mick was absolutely loving it. Barry, unsurprisingly, was the one who needed the most adjustment, but he never complained.

When Lisa tripped Mick for no reason other than she was bored, and Mick retaliated by tickling her until her voice was hoarse, Barry laughed. Len almost dropped the cup in his hand when he heard it in his head. It was the first time he had heard Barry when he wasn’t singing. The exact way Barry’s voice worked was still a mystery to them.

At that moment, though, all Len cared about was the bright, warm laughter ringing in his head, and the carefree smile on Lisa’s face.

Mick gave him a knowing look. Len pretended not to see it.

*

They tried to figure out a way for Barry to control his voice.

Touch helped. When Barry was holding Len’s hand, he could sang to Len without others hearing it. He could also heal small wounds by singing, but it drained him and he would lose his voice for the next few days.

Barry refused to try to control anyone. Len didn’t push.

*

Barry took to singing both Len and Lisa to sleep every night. He would lie down between them, putting a hand on each of their arms, and sang the song that had put them to sleep many years ago. The directionless hum had since grown into a gentle tune. Len couldn’t help pulling Barry’s hand closer to himself, intertwining their fingers.

Barry gave him a shy smile, and Len wanted.

Mick said they were a bunch of kindergarten children, holding on to each other when there was a storm outside. Barry only extended a hand out to him like a challenge.

The next morning, Mick ruffled Barry’s hair and gave him a half hug. Len grinned at Barry when Barry turned to him in shock.

*

They met a group of three at the border of the country. Snow, a doctor who was unusually calm about having three guns pointed at her; Ramon, an inventor who made mostly useless trinkets, but also beautiful and ingenious gadgets; Rathaway, a scientist who had a sharp tongue and a sharper mind.

They worked for a man called Harrison Wells in the past. It took them years to realize that the man was no longer their old mentor, but a slave of the devil’s will. They tried to save Wells from the voice, but it was impossible to fight something that could be in anyone’s mind. Their only hope was Barry, but they were thrown out before they could get to him.

Len refused to let Barry go back to the tower. It wasn’t their fight. Wells wasn’t their friend to lose. They fought. Barry by the furious movement of his hands; he had gotten very good at signing in the last few months. Len by shouting his frustration; he hadn’t gotten any better at controlling his voice, but he communicated more through tone than words.

_ I’m not yours to keep! _ Barry signed.  _ You got me out of the tower. I was only trying to do the same. _

“I promised your father,” Len said through clenched teeth. He knew it was cruel to bring up Barry’s father, but he was scared, and he never dealt well with being scared. “He didn’t die to have you throw your life away.”

Len saw the slap coming, but what really hurt him was the pain in Barry’s eyes. He was the one who put it there.

Barry twisted away and ran. Len chased after him. But Barry yelled, “get away from me!” and Len couldn’t stop his body from running in the opposite direction.

*

Barry was horrified once he realized what he had done, but he couldn’t undo it. Len felt a vindictive sense of satisfaction for the devastated look on Barry’s face, but it was torture to have his own body taking him further away every time Barry tried to get close.

On the third day Barry broke down in Lisa’s arms and begged them for forgiveness. Len cursed himself for not being to control his own body.

*

In the end, it was anti-climatic how simple it was to resolve their problem. Len drugged himself to stop his body from fighting. Barry kneeled down beside him and murmured an apology with his hands on Len’s arms.

It was a carefully phrased sentence. Telling Len he didn’t mean what he had said and please don’t run away from him because of that. All the qualifications and conditions instead of a simple “stay”. Len knew why, and he wanted to reassure Barry that he couldn’t force Len to do what he had already set his mind to do.

_ I just want to help. _ Barry lay his forehead against Len’s.  _ Otherwise what good am I? _

Len tilted his head and dropped a kiss on Barry’s palm.

*

In the next few days, they talked. With voice, with gestures, with touch. Everything Len and Lisa had been through. Everything Barry had to live through. What Barry had come to mean to them. How Len had given a blind man light.

They also get to know the three newcomers. Cisco and Lisa had become infatuated with each other. Mick had taken a shine on Hartley and his sharp tongue. Len and Caitlin had quietly observe everyone and come to an understanding.

Barry had quickly become fast friends with all of them.

Len was content.

*

They talked about going in. They talked about staying put. But the voice took the choice out of their hands.

One day, the voice was suddenly in their heads, telling them to find Barry Allen and bring him to the tower. They would have done something they would all regret if Barry hadn’t sung in their heads to keep the voice out.

Find Barry Allen, the voice had said, and Len’s heart sank. It was an order issued to an uncertain group of people. He didn’t know how many had been influenced, but they would be coming after Barry.

Barry’s hand found Len’s wrist, and Len let out a deep breath. He knew what had to be done.

*

_ Don’t even think about leaving me behind _ , Lisa signed, stubborn as ever. Len tried to convince her to stay with Ramon, Snow, and Rathaway, to protect their noncombatants, but she wouldn’t budge.  _ I’ll follow whether you like it or not. Might as well include me in your plan. _

Len played dirty and told her she would only be a liability, but they knew each other too well for that to work. Mick didn’t even try to convince her. He knew how hard it was to change Lisa’s mind.

_ We won’t let anything happen to her _ . Barry put a hand on his arm.  _ I won’t let anything happen to her. _

Len lay his head on Barry’s shoulder. That was what he was afraid of.

*

On their way to the tower, Len helped Barry practice while the scientists was trying to figure out a way to block the voice. Barry’s voice became stronger the more he used it. He’d also become better at putting his intentions into his voice. He was still wary of using his voice to control people, but he was at least willing to try.

Get me a glass of water. Draw me a picture. Tell me a story. It was always something innocent, harmless, something Len wouldn’t mind doing anyway. Len told Barry to try something Len wouldn’t want to do, but Barry was reluctant to do so.

Tell me to keep my eyes close for an hour. Tell me to tell you a secret. Tell me to stay away from you. Len pushed and pushed and pushed. Finally Barry snapped and told Len to hit him.

Len tried desperately to stop his body from moving, but still his fist connected with Barry’s cheek. When he regained control over himself, he couldn’t stop shaking. He dropped down to the ground and buried his face in his hands. His breathing was too fast and too shallow. He knew what was happening. Darkness was slowly bleeding into his vision.

A pair of arms circled his shoulders and pulled him into a firm embrace. Barry’s face was damp as he murmured into Len’s skin.  _ Breathe _ , Barry whispered.  _ I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.  _ The voice was warm and soothing in Len’s mind, and he slowly let his body go lax against Barry.

He felt safe.

*

They tried to navigate the city while keeping Barry’s identity hidden, which was easier said than done. Almost everyone was in frenzy trying to find Barry. Officers were stopping random people on the street. People were trying to get a good look on everyone’s face. Put a hat on and you became the center of attention. They had to go for a more subtle approach.

Barry’s hair was cut short and dyed black. He let his stubbles grow out. He put on a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. He was told to not smile, talk, or laugh. Singing and humming were of course out of the question. Len could tell how hard it was for Barry. He wasn’t made to be still and silent. But they somehow got close to the tower without raising too much suspicion. It was only when they were right below the tower that a guard stopped them on their track and stared at Barry.

Len could see the moment the guard recognized Barry. He knocked the guard out with his elbow, pulled Barry close to him, shot the grappling hook Cisco invented at the top of the tower, and they went off the ground. All hell broke loose. People were stepping over each other trying to get into the tower. Some were trying to climb the tower with bare hands. Some had lost their grip and hit the ground with a sickening sound. Len pulled Barry away from the horror below and waved Lisa over.  _ I’ll take point _ , he signed at Lisa.  _ Take care of him. _

He pulled a gun out and motioned at Mick to go with him. Lisa and Barry would follow at a distance. Hartley had given them a detailed map on the interior of the tower and the possible locations of Wells. They couldn’t be sure if anything had changed during their time away, but it was something.

The tower was eerily quiet. Len was ready for a fight when he spotted a guard in the hallway, but the guard seemed to be in an catatonic state. He shared a look with Mick and carefully put a hand on the guard’s shoulder. No reaction.

Len knocked him out anyway to be on the safe side. They went on. Wells’s room was empty, his office, too. Len was getting more and more tensed. This felt wrong.

He heard the voice before he saw the man, and he activated the device their three new friends had made. It shut down the part of a brain that processed sound. His mind was blissfully silent. He charged at Wells.

He didn’t realize that the voice still had some sway on Mick and Lisa.

Bullet went through his knee and he stumbled. Mick was yelling at him to just shoot him or knock him out. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lisa pulling a gun at Barry. Barry opened his mouth and sang.

Len couldn’t hear anything, but Lisa and Mick had stopped moving altogether. Len took the chance to duck under Wells’s pistol and knock it out of his hands. It was all too easy to knock Wells out and tape his mouth shut.

He should have known nothing was ever easy.

He was so relieved to see Mick and Lisa come to themselves, so relieved to see Barry’s smile, so relieved that they would be able to live in peace.

A harsh, graveling voice screamed in his head. Suddenly Len understood why the guard they found was the way he was. There was nothing human about the voice. Nothing a machine could shield him from. Nothing his deaf ears could protect him from. He either surrendered his control and killed everyone he loved, or he died resisting.

It wasn’t that hard of a choice. There wasn’t a choice at all.

He raised the gun and shot himself in the head.

*

Barry couldn’t make a sound.

Gunshot. Explosion. A scream. The voice had died inside Len’s head. Barry couldn’t stop staring.

Lisa collapsed onto the floor screaming “no, no, no!” Mick let out a cry like a wounded animal. Barry walked to where Len’s body lay. It felt like he was walking in water.

There was so much blood. He dropped to his knees. Pieces of bones, brains. He cradled Len’s face in his hands.

This couldn’t be happening. Len couldn’t just abandon them like this. Len couldn’t just leave him like this.

Barry sang.

*

He would give anything and everything. If there ever was a reason he was born with his voice, this would be it.  _ Take everything away _ , he begged.  _ Take it all away but give him back. _ If there ever was a god, they would hear him.  _ You owe him _ , he accused.  _ He sacrificed himself to protect your creations from a devil you let loose. You owe him. _

He sang until his voice was hoarse. He sang until the blood on his hands was dried. He sang until he couldn’t make a sound anymore.

Slowly, very slowly, Len healed.

Barry knew, without a doubt, that his voice would never come back again, but he couldn’t care less when Len took a gasp of air. Alive. Alive. Alive.

*

Barry sobbed in his arms.  _ I hate you _ , he mouthed.  _ I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. _

Len didn’t know exactly how he came back, but everyone he cared about was living and breathing and shouting at him; he couldn’t ask for more. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding Barry tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

*

Lisa and Mick both punched him in the face and threatened to kill him themselves if he ever did something this stupid again. Barry signed that he would help. Cisco seemed almost shocked when he heard about what Len had done. Hartley only raised an judgemental eyebrow.

Caitlin met his eyes and mouthed, “I understand.”

*

They are the stories on everyone’s lips. A band of criminals and misfits who liberated the whole country. They told of a young man with a magical voice and a thief with unparalleled courage, of a woman with hair like the sun and fierceness that could instill fear in the God Himself, of an arsonist with a crass manner but a protective nature, of an inventor who could make wondrous living machine, of a doctor who could save people from the brink of their death, of a scientist who could see the underlying mechanism of the universe.

They laughed when they heard the stories, the legends, the myths. As Mick put it, they were only a bunch of scared kids who couldn’t let go of one another’s hand. Len thought it was an apt enough description. Barry thought it was the sweetest thing Mick had ever said.

They were no heroes, but they didn’t have to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god I really shouldn't be doing this, but goddamnit I couldn't stop writing this thing. I'm just gonna write a really short oneshot, I thought to myself. But then this just got away from me and grew all the limbs and organs and a head.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this story. I'll have to pull all the all-nighters to make up for the time I spent on this. It's totally worth it though. I had a lot of fun writing this.


End file.
